


Marinette Dupain-Cheng Breakup Playlist

by Talik_Sanis



Series: Harmonious Voices - A Lukadrien Series [1]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Bisexual Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, M/M, Oblivious Luka Couffaine, Pansexual Luka Couffaine, Past Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Past Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Post-Break Up, Post-Reveal Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Resentment, Snake Luka Couffaine | Viperion, Song Lyrics, Songfic, puns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:47:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27840976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talik_Sanis/pseuds/Talik_Sanis
Summary: Adrien Agreste struggles to comfort Luka after a difficult split from Marinette.As they begin to grow closer, Adrien realizes that his lifetime of experience with abuse might help both him and Luka to recognize and address some of the deep, lingering issues that caused them both to lose the tune in the first place.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Luka Couffaine, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug (Past), Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug (past)
Series: Harmonious Voices - A Lukadrien Series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2031361
Comments: 40
Kudos: 43





	1. You've Lost That Loving Feeling

**Author's Note:**

> [An evolving spotify playlist of the songs featured in this story is provided by way of this link.](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0JbcIGklPgIfxqbtHWCbGC)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien and Luka have a rooftop friendship date as a snake works through his breakup.

“So, a snake walks into a bar.”

“Okay.”

“And the bartender goes, _how'd you do that_?”

They sat together on their random rooftop rendezvous spot.

The cat's eager, luminous eyes dug into his brain, the expression almost pleading and Luka was just buzzed enough to think a few things that were not nearly as dorky and wholesome as silly puns.

Given his typical smooth rhythm, a little grin from Luka was enough to have Adrien preening at his success to the tune of the overplayed _[Flight of the Bumblebees](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aYAJopwEYv8&ab_channel=TheWickedNorth)_ (So damn frustrating when it won talent competitions just because everyone knew it).

Luka downed some coke from the half empty cup at his side to quench a snort. Overplayed, but still enough to make you laugh.

“But clearly I'm the snake in this joke. I can't tend bars when I don't have any hands.” Luka leaned into his lyre, propped up against his knee as he reached for another slice of vegetarian pizza from the box that his fellow hero had plopped down on the rooftop next to him roughly ten minutes earlier.

“True,” Chat granted with some regret and then mulled over the terrible quandary that was Luka's future, tapping at his chin in thought before scowling at his greasy fingers and grabbing a wad of napkins to clean them off.

“When it comes to long-term career plans, you could always become an accountant.” Chat mopped up a little dollop of sauce and grease under his jaw. “That's really dry, soul crushing work. Seems like it's right up your alley if you want to be a _respectable_ member of society.”

“That does sound suitably horrifying, but I don't think that I have the training for it, and I'm not looking to spend years in Uni.” He didn't have the time to devote to caring for his mother and sister while getting a “real” education, even a trade. Low-skilled labour was the best that he could look for, and no way in hell was he getting government assistance. Being beholden to the government was the antithesis of liberty.

“Education? Are you serious?” Chat stuck out his tongue, face pinched up like he was going to vomit. “You don't need that. You're already a great adder.”

Luka huffed at the wiggling blond who was grinning wide at his own joke.

“I was always too focused on multiplication to get the skills I'd need.” Was that too flirty a pun? Was it really that he was just looking for something easy and silly and using Chat for that?

That dismissive flick of Chat's claws was like a kitten pawing at the air.

“Of course a guy like you would get a lot of practice running through his multiplication tables.” His fingers snapped, and his chest puffed with pride in a way that Luka only now realized was kind of adorable as he struggled to blot out the sound of the sweetest song that he could no longer play.

“You could always look into government work.” Adrien kicked his heels against the edge of the roof and dug out a fry from the bottom of the small bag they'd been sharing, poking the droopy potato wedge in Luka's direction. “You'd be a great civil serpent.”

“Speaking of soul crushing.”

“Yep.” Chat popped the fry into his mouth and offered the remainder of the bag to him.

“How about in your industry? Think you could find me a job at _Agreste Designs_?” Viperion accepted the dubious present, partially translucent with fat, and frowned to find it empty. At his glare, Chat just wiggled his brow.

How did Marinette ever stay mad at that dork, especially when the melody playing underneath those puns and meaningless flirts was more often than not [I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=itdSGRnjdFI&ab_channel=ElvisPresleyVEVO)?

Luka sighed, crumpling the bag in mock disgust. “I could do paper work.”

“Oh, no. You'd get snapped up in a second by our designers.”

“What?” Viperion scoffed. “As a pin cushion?”

Chat blew him a raspberry, clapping his shoulder playfully with a swing of his baton, fumbling because it was slick with pizza grease.

And that pizza had been really, _really_ greasy, especially Chat's meat-lovers half. If you're going to blow your diet, Luka presumed, you might as well go all the way.

“No. As a model. You'd be perfect for the upcoming summer collection.”

That was a setup, clearly. Why not? Luka schooled his expression, keeping his hands tight on his lyre for stability. “Oh? Why's that?”

“You'd look pretty cute in a pythong.” Adrien framed Luka's midsection with his fingers, like he was aiming a camera, then angled lower with a suggestive wink. “Very sexy.”

“My God. It never ends, does it?” Still, a little buttering up and flattery after a bad breakup was nice to hear. At least it wasn't his appearance that had turned Marinette off.

No. It was the fact that he wasn't going anywhere with his life, which meant that he was a burden. After a lifetime of only twenty-two years spent trying to lift the weight from others' shoulders, it was strange for him to be something _she_ had grown tired of carrying.

It was a surprise to wake up one day at 5:00 to start your deliveries, slogging and sweating while bolstering your spirits with the thought of an evening date you'd been squirreling away money to pay for over the last month, only to find that you were a layabout without plans or career prospects or – or anything because he'd given all of that up to make sure that Juleka was raised properly. That she had those chances.

“I'm terrible. I know.” Chat shook his head as if ashamed of himself, stretching his arms into the air.

“Thanks for that, by the way.”

“Being terrible?”

Luka snorted. “For trying to lift my spirits. It helps.”

The tip of Chat's baton twirled between his fingers in a slow roll, keeping him occupied, gaze to his lap while he mulled.

Luka scooped up some napkins to clean his gloves and took the time to crumple up the few waxy paper cups and other detritus and stuff it into the now empty box, trying not to appear overly interested in Adrien's response.

A kind of cool curiosity overtook him as he wondered what Adrien might be mulling over so thoroughly. His heartsong was a muddle, low-tuned string instruments whose quivering notes flitted about too soft and quick to be teased apart.

Leaning back to stare up into the dull sky, cloudless but tinted a hazy orange blue by the city lights around them that washed out the stars, he tried to put himself into the other man's mind. Adrien was probably just trying to find something to say to a soulful guitarist who was good for a teenage fling, and nothing more.

Ugh. Even his inner monologue was spiteful.

That wasn't fair, of course. Marinette had always made her feelings clear, and it wasn't his fault that she never really loved him the way he did her. If things hadn't worked out between her and Adrien, why should he have been any different?

But he was a snake who'd just been dumped. A little venom was in order.

“I don't really have many friends, Luka.” Adrien's shoulders stooped. He was bent over his knees while his eyes followed the slow, easy rocking of his boots. "I- I just want to make sure that I can do everything I can to help the people who matter. Even if that's just being silly.”

“It's not.”

“Oh?” Chat's response was a whine. It was so easy, Luka realized, for Adrien to tumble into sore points, a dozen little depressive triggers that could consume him in a moment, especially when he struggled to play the happy clown. “It's not like I have any other meaningful skills.”

“Of course you do.” Luka reached out and, caught up by the glassiness of those green sclera, took Chat by a gloved hand. Sitting down, they were nearly the same height, although a growth spurt had left Adrien taller when they stood.

“In addition to your business skills and all the talents of Paris' premiere male superhero, you're also very sweet and considerate. I'd probably be halfway through my fifth bottle of cheap beer at this point, working myself up to a hangover if not for you.”

Adrien shifted, and it was actually a surprise to see that blush that Luka might have noticed only because he was a little flush with alcohol.

Adrien didn't take compliments well, but he did take them adorably.

“It's gotta be the cheap bear,” Adrien scoffed, withdrawing his hand to lay it on his lap.

“Oh, yes. It adds to the aesthetic. Not like you rich people with your champagne and ... uh. What's an expensive wine?”

Was that going to far? Was it a joke or a needle? Luka was normally better at reading people.

“You're asking _me_?” Chat replied, baffled.

“Okay, then something that sounds incredibly pretentious,” Luka offered with a grimace. The surrealism of sharing seven-euro pizza with a multi-millionaire hit him again. Marinette wasn't in the least materialistic, but he had been a downgrade from the way Adrien must have dinned her if not wined her.

That kind of thinking might have been due to the three beers that he'd managed to pound back before Adrien had tracked him down and drug Viperion off for a run and rooftop pizza party with soda rather than cheap beer that was only useful in getting you drunk.

An end in itself sometimes.

"But it was nice not to get blackout drunk, and pizza is always a nice touch, even if you did hog all the fries."

“And it helped?” Now, Adrien was a bashful child, eyes flicking towards the city beyond. “Really, I mean?”

He was really asking if _he_ had helped, letting the real Adrien shine through.

“It's going to take a while to get over Marinette, but, yeah, Adrien. It did.”

“Yeah, I get that.” That regretful smile, unabashed and unashamed and beautiful not just because of the pearly teeth – though his pink lips were greasy – but because Adrien was able to actually show it, reminded Luka of why Adrien had been weaved so tightly into Marinette's heartsong that no composer could have ever found a way to tease out a melody that made sense without him.

As skilled as he was in falling into pits and divots in the road, Adrien was better at banishing dour thoughts, likely because he'd had so much practice. Luka couldn't help but laugh and shove the cat so hard that he nearly tumbled off the roof when Adrien pulled up his “Marinette breakup playlist” on his baton.

They sang karaoke, supplemented by Luka's lyre, while following along with the lyrics on Chat's baton, starting with the Righteous Brothers' _[You've Lost That Loving Feeling,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uOnYY9Mw2Fg&ab_channel=jarichards99utube)_ for the next hour.

While watching the blond's wild shock of hair flaring in a little gust of wind as he yowled out, “Bring back that lovin' feelin' cause it's gone, gone, gone. _W_ _hoa-oh_!" his eyes tight but smile wide, Luka decided that it wasn't so bad to lose the tune when you found a new melody to sing, even if it was a breakup song.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first unserious attempt to write Lukadrien is likely to be quite lighthearted, though we will see some attempt at exploring Luka. A simple and straightforward story is really a means for me to try to grapple with his voice, while also indulging my lizard brain with some easy fluff.


	2. You Gave Up On Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien visits Luka on _The Liberty_ , and the guitarist learns that while his friend is a giver, unlike Marinette, he hasn't _given up_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [An evolving spotify playlist of the songs featured in this story is provided by way of this link.](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0JbcIGklPgIfxqbtHWCbGC)

There was one serious problem that become obvious as Luka began to spend more time with Adrien:

He was a giver.

At first, it hadn't been anything particularly serious. Adrien had simply paid for the pizza that they had shared, and that was fine. Luka could pick up the tab on some cheap Chinese food if they saw each other again in a week.

Adrien showed up at _The Liberty_ the next day.

He ambled up the deck to Luka's spot under an umbrella where the guitarist was strumming through [Aaron West and The Roaring Twenties' "Our Apartment,"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=183XZl9QtcU&list=PL7wTEP7wuy49xZ3C4iqCbSKJbksKlEj_k&ab_channel=HopelessRecords) a song he'd been reminded of when he saw it last night on Adrien's baton.

Caught up in the easy flow of music that gave voice to a lost song, Luka didn't really want to stop, and a subtle gesture as Adrien settled in, sitting on the deck with his back to the cabin, had Luka continuing to sing.

His voice was uneven, gravelly when it was normally smooth if not melodious, and Adrien's heartsong was in his ears, warping his perception of sound. There were too many subtle, conflicting movements and motions to hear it over the drumbeat of his own pulse. He tried to level out his voice so that it wasn't as terrible as he usually found it to be. There was a reason he strummed rather than sang.

Adrien, on the other hand, was a lovely singer, now that his voice had deepened with a completed puberty, and there was something shameful about singing poorly after being serenaded with breakup songs last night. Some of it had been deliberately ridiculous howling, but the rest quite pleasant.

Even with an audience, the music still flowed.

> “ _I pictured you walking in, I bet you're late again, but your make-up's straight and you're smiling, it's just like it's always been_.”

Adrien was smiling and it was cut with a grim and familiar feeling. You didn't lose Marinette Dupain-Cheng without having the echoes chase you for the rest of your life.

> “ _Well I'm sleeping on the couch. I can't stand our bed without you_.”

Adrien nodded and Luka half expected him to begin applauding. The little shivering twitches of his hands and the undulation of his Adam's apple made it seem like he was caught between that and something else, but Luka couldn't tell what it was.

Not feeling like music any longer, which was a strange impulse he worked hard not to analyze, Luka set his guitar to the side while Adrien pulled up a box that Luka hadn't even seen him carrying. It was hard work, not thinking when you were good at it, but hard work often made things easier in the long run.

He leaned over, caught in a strange shiver of excitement, as Adrien cracked open the lid to reveal cookies – cookies that were decidedly not from the Dupain-Cheng bakery because they were lopsided and ugly. Several were burnt; others looked under-cooked.

“That was an incredible performance, Luka.” The box was pushed towards him as Adrien looked towards the Seine. “Snack?”

“That's very kind of you, Adrien.” It took only a second to nudge a burnt biscuit aside in order to pull out a passably-baked oatmeal raisin cookie.

“I would have made chocolate chip, but I didn't know if you were allergic.”

Luka paused, the cookie halfway to his mouth.

“You made these yourself?”

Adrien looked offended, face heating up with something that must have been near anger, as he turned the box around to pull out an under-cooked morsel. “I know how to bake cookies, Luka. It's not that hard.”

Good job, smooth operator. Way to be an ass.

“No, no. That's not what I meant, Adrien. It's just that I didn't think that you'd go out of your way to do something like this for me, and for the record, I love chocolate chip cookies.”

On closer inspection, the cookie in his hold was beautiful. The real value of a song was not found in the notes or even the lyrics, but in what it meant. Oftentimes, that was intensely personal; there were layers of interpretation and meaning.

“I know what a Dupain-Cheng breakup is like, Luka. I had to go through that alone.” It was said without malice, but Luka suppressed a wince. “You shouldn't have to.”

He felt like playing music again.

As ever, he just went with the flow, let himself be moved. The trick was in letting the rhythms around you guide the performance, playing off the energy of the audience, while never letting them know that you still had full control of the position of your body as the current carried you out.

Luka, stuffing himself with a few more cookies, escorted the head of _Agreste Designs_ below decks so the Adrien could join him on their keyboard. There were only a few lamentations, including the appropriate [“You Gave Up On Love” by Boston](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zevl1-PWrxo&ab_channel=wheelkak), perfect for two singers who were playing off of each other. They weren't practiced, which meant little ornamentation, and they needed some background accompaniment, but they muddled through something that was half performance and half Karaoke. 

> “ _You gave up on love._ ”

Luka winced at that, fingers feeling stiff on the strings.

> “ _You gave up so easily_.”
> 
> “ _Guess you're not so tough!_ ”

They chorused together, Adrien's slightly smoother voice evening out the shards of glass that Luka was gargling. The blond's easy nod was permission and acceptance.

> “ _You gave up on everything love could be_.”

Knowing that he had to clear the fragments out of his throat and dislodge a few bloody shards, Luka ceded control to Adrien. Their song was in safe hands.

> " _Hey, you run to me but it's just not enough. Hey, you couldn't see that you had to be..._ "

There was a little hiccup, a pause of invitation for Luka to catch up and finish with Adrien.

> " _You had to be in love._ "

The head of Agreste Designs kept staring at him throughout the song, looking for him to join, to see if he was willing to take the lead in their duet.

Shortly after their journey into classic rock, the rest of the family had packed into the living area to watch the performance, Anarka arching a critical brow and smiling at the interplay of guitar and piano. It had been a long while since she'd judge his music.

Then, Anarka and Jeluka supplemented Luka's work so they had three guitars to one piano, but Adrien had no difficulty in keeping pace with three Couffaines who were not above a little bit of friendly, family competition.

While they played through a whole host of songs, Luka could only wonder at the strange secondary melody that was being composed by everyone else in the room. His mother would bear down on Adrien with a glare that was not quite suspicious or judgmental – Luka would have put a stop to that – only for the blond to shrug or shift away from his music to stare her down.

While their tune oscillated, Juleka appeared initially as bewildered as Luka himself, but when she caught her mother's eye after almost twenty minutes, her guitar fell silent as she brushed aside her low-hanging bangs and after staring at their keyboardist for a moment, started to look everywhere but Adrien.

It almost made Luka wish that he wasn't trying to deafen himself at the moment so he could hear properly.

If it was important, though, they'd let him know.


	3. Smoke Gets in Your Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luka takes Adrien out to a bar and learns a great deal about him in the ensuing conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [An evolving spotify playlist of the songs featured in this story is provided by way of this link.](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0JbcIGklPgIfxqbtHWCbGC)

Future meetings weren't all that different. Adrien was always bringing something, paying for something.

Was that something that he'd picked up from his father?

The weekend after the breakup, it was a trip to the theatre because they both wanted something loud and stupid. A bevy of Hollywood options were on the table, but Luka, whom Adrien had allowed to pick, selected S _tar Wars Episode 12: The Shadow of the Empire_ , because Adrien had been staring at a billboard advertisement during their “patrol” as Viperion and Chat Noir two nights earlier.

It was just as horrible as the last eight movies in the series, but while Luka savaged the film mentally, Adrien just sat in his seat and pounded back popcorn while slurping soda.

He really was a bit of a kid sometimes.

They met up for drinks at a bar the next weekend, though there were some easy text-messages and a few "check-up" phone calls over the week, and a night of online gaming. Luka needed to get out of the house(boat) for a while. There had been enough depressive lonely moping for one day. It was well past time that he indulge in some depressive accompanied moping.

Adrien had never actually _been_ to a bar, save for the single time that he'd dragged Luka out of one after the Marinette breakup. How could Marinette have allowed that? It wasn't conceit, but pride in them, if you wanted to show off a boyfriend like that. Certainly that was part of the reason Luka had taken Marinette out on the town – to share his private melody with the world; allow others to appreciate the beauty of it and her to soak in the affirmation.

A hint of stale beer and the plastic scent of vinyl from the seats in the back were in the air, though dulled, mingling with the ammonia and lemon mélange of cleaning products and the musk of clean human flesh. The bar exuded calm with respectful and generally cheerful patrons. Clean, inviting, and nearly homey was what Adrien needed, with just a whiff of the wild.

Luka wasn't about to take Adrien to a packed rave, dive-bar, or a club that, in the crush of writhing bodies, reeked of sweat and needs, most of which were unhealthy, but that Luka knew well enough to slither and glide his way through safely.

You worked your way up to those kinds of things. One small step at a time.

Experience in the slightly dangerous – for Adrien – but controlled and actually safe side of life was not to be ignored, at least if Adrien was interested in exploring it, guided by a caring hand to make sure that he didn't overindulge. If he did, or if he felt like it, Luka was also more than ready to stay completely sober, keeping himself to a single drink.

While walking Adrien through a few recommendations that might work for a neophyte with a sweet tooth, Luka had to smile at the wide-eyed enthusiasm and the little excited bounce to Adrien's knee. It was both enervating and invigorating to be next to that much unleashed energy.

Over the course of a few drinks, there was a rambling conversation about ... everything – all the little things that Adrien and Luka really didn't know about each other, the similarities and the differences that were as fascinating as they were myriad.

Adrien was an interesting person, Luka realized with no small amount of shame, while the other man was waxing on about the derivation of enthalpy change formulae that just flew right over Luka's head. Abashed, Adrien ground to a halt and took another sip from his drink, the knee-bounce moving form andante to vivace.

Not that Adrien was actually moving at around 160 beats per minute, but his heart looked like it was while he apologized and launched into a new round of explanations that were ... dumbed down but not in a way that made Luka feel patronized. He saw the effort.

Shame bloomed hotter. He'd assumed that Adrien, while sweet, wasn't exactly an intriguing person or that perceptive.

But he could see it in the brightness of his eyes, gleaming, and the way that his cheeks relaxed, spurred on by a little buzz from the drink that lay forgotten on the table as he mimed calculus equations with his hands.

There was much more to Adrien than just deep-seated and complex pain and the manic energy of a child who'd been forced to sit still for too long – about seventeen years, spent bound and gagged.

There was life and wit and sunshine and a cunning mind that flipped and twisted in joyous contortions, all liquid grace and silliness. Along with the underlying strains of agony, the little scream that a few drinks washed out, Adrien was so lighthearted but robust and cunning in his own way, sounding something akin to the [overture to ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CJiiBq8UnIY&ab_channel=TheSpiritofOrchestralMusic)[Rossini's La Gazza Ladra.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CJiiBq8UnIY&ab_channel=TheSpiritofOrchestralMusic) Luka hadn't expected the explosive force, or the hint of genuine risk. It was happy to the point of the ... psychotic, if you just twisted the tune the wrong way, let the music get away from you.

Adrien never did, but loosened up with a few drinks, he seemed to get a little bit closer.

When you saw that, really saw it and experienced it, it was like sitting right in front of the stage so that you could watch Jagged Stone's frenetic performance and maybe if you pressed close enough he'd look right at you and make you feel that the performance, all the show, was just for you, even as you were swept away in Jagged's mania.

The conversation flipped over to music, and that was where they found equal footing.

Then, Luka was talking about his job – physical labour that Adrien understood conceptually and tangentially by way of the brutalizing workout regime that left him decidedly... swol, as Luka only now realized when they began discussing their various aches and pains, skirting around acknowledging the deepest one – the pigtailed hole that they both wanted to scar over and feared losing.

Every pounded note and twisting wound was part of the palimpsest. In the end, you needed your pain. The wounds healed, but your scars made you what you were; you just had to accept it and build on the scar tissue.

Over the course of the evening, he was less enthused by having to preemptively intercept a few interested parties who either recognized Adrien or just recognized that he was highly attractive. That wasn't Luka's business, and he had no right to make decisions for his drinking buddy for the evening, but Adrien might have been on the verge of having compromised judgment.

Protecting people was what Luka did best; maybe that was why Ladybug had given him the snake miraculous.

Taking a sip from a suitably fruity cocktail with almost no alcoholic content – Luka had suggested it for more than one reason – Adrien admitted to having no idea how to play pool, staring at one of the tables in the back with a dubious frown.

That was close enough to a request for Luka.

Paying attention to the fine details of Adrien's shifting expressions and the uncertain, tremulous hush that fell over his heart as he stared at Luka as if he was jotting down notes, the guitarist explained the game, circling one of the available tables and explaining the objectives and the rules with concrete examples and smooth gestures.

It was nice to be able to repay the blond, even in a small way.

All puffed up Chat Noir confidence, bolstered by just the right amount of sweet booze, Adrien took his first shot after Luka broke and looked positively devastated when it went horribly awry, shoulders folding in on themselves.

At least he hadn't scratched, but it was a close thing.

Something else was there, though, something that made Adrien cast his eyes to the ground as if in shame because....

Luka paused to listen to the clench of his fingers, dusted with particles of chalk, and the groan of tortured flesh, lip plumping as Adrien bit down on it.

 _Because he should have known better_.

That wouldn't really do at all, so Luka gestured the sulking model over to his side of the table, meeting him halfway to demonstrate the proper positioning of the pool cue and the smooth energy of the strike that sent off a cascade of billiard balls clattering to all ends of the table.

When, with some gentle cajoling, Adrien finally stepped to the table, pausing a moment to eye the cue that Luka was handing over suspiciously, and tried to set up his shot, Luka stood at his side and saw the flaw.

“You're too tense.”

Adrien looked up from the table, his free hand falling to it and clenching “What?”

“When you take a shot, you should be relaxed. I know that's tough when it's your first time, but slow and easy motions make everything go a lot more smoothly.”

“I guess I just don't want to screw up.”

“Adrien, we're all going to screw up at some point, but even if you do, you're fine. It's fine to screw up when you're learning something new, and it's fine to screw up at something that you're already good at. It's how we all learn, and a perfect performance means that there's no personality – nothing unique or special. It's how a robot plays.” Luka smiled, hand to Adrien's shoulder, feeling the muscle shift. “And human beings are a lot more fun than robots.”

“Just don't say that to Max.”

Adrien choked up on the pool cue and chalked it, mimicking Luka's earlier gesture, even though the cue didn't need it. That was kind of cute, really: model see, model do.

It was also how Adrien learned because he hadn't been taught any other way: by wrote imitation of behaviors.

Oh.

That discovery was as valuable in understanding his lost Melody as it was in exploring his burgeoning friend's personality.

Now he knew why Marinette had hated Gabriel Agreste so much

Adrien hesitated while surveying the state of the table, examining the arrangement of billiard balls carefully from multiple angles. Calculations ran in ticker-tape behind his intensely focused green eyes that were suddenly raw and cold as he analyzed. It was not a look that Luka would have expected from Adrien; that was fit for - for Marinette when she was in her element.

When you didn't have a partner, you had to fill in the gaps yourself, try to find all the missing pieces that had been ripped away.

He didn't want to think about the pieces he was searching for, and regretted wanted to create a safe space for Adrien.

He could really use a few drinks now.

Adrien was a furnace, all fiery muscle, Luka discovered as he pressed up beside the other man who's ugly fixation and mechanical calculations melted into a little tremble of surprise.

“To start out, try not to overthink it.” An arm curled over Adrien's shoulder to ease his cue down to the table and position it, lining up the shot.

“But – it's all about proper angles and force – physics, right?”  
  
“Sure, but if you don't have a feel for the cue and the table, for how to shoot and where to aim, all the physics in the world won't help.” Reaching further around to Adrien's side, Luka altered his posture, bending down a few inches and taking Adrien with him.

It would be a lot easier if Adrien wasn't bigger than him now, so that he could just stand behind him and help him line up the shot properly. Of course, that was more intimate than friendly, something he might have done with Marinette or someone who he was trying to pick up for the night. Luka wasn't about to start putting the moves of a straight man or a friend. If he'd wanted a fling to help get over his breakup, he would have been prowling a very different kind of bar, or smouldering in a corner, waiting.

Snakes looking for a meal were ambush predators.

And Adrien _was_... a friend, or starting to become one. They'd been acquaintances, but from what little he'd learned, he wanted more than that.

The alcohol was surely getting to Adrien, if the flare of his cheeks was anything to go by. His breathing stopped up, punched out in a rush, as Luka patted his shoulder.

“Okay, let it go, nice and easy.”

Adrien rocked back into Luka's chest, the heat of his body almost scalding now – maybe that was a miraculous side-effect thing, and snakes were cold-blooded – then committed in a forward lunge.

The results were not ideal. He was an inch off pocketing the object ball, but he also didn't come anywhere near scratching.

Luka took it as a success when Adrien turned into him and offered him a child's smile, like a small boy who had just taken his first shaky pedal-strokes on his bicycle now that the training wheels had been taken off, cheeks pinched with the force of his grin.

Their games were no competition, but Adrien was a fast learner, and had a head for the angles and curves, picking up on the appropriate amount of force to apply so quickly it was almost terrifying. It made sense, really. A lifetime in fencing and Aikido and years as a hero had probably left him with an exceptional sense of his own body, and his spastic nature belied the almost frightening level of control he actually had.

A few more nights like this and Adrien would give him a run for his money.

They'd have to have a few more nights, just like this one.

After their games, they left the bar, but not before Adrien insisted on paying not just for their drinks but also for Luka's tab, which was not insubstantial. He brooked no disagreement.

Adrien was a giver, and Luka thought he wouldn't be any less so if he was dirt poor – as poor as Luka himself.

That was dangerous, something that unscrupulous people could easily take advantage of, and the generosity made Luka grumble. It felt like he was. Adrien had to learn how... not to be used. If necessary, though, Luka would make sure that he wasn't, as best as he could, until the blond learned.

He didn't stop to think about how serious a commitment that actually was.

Outside the bar, Luka actually grinned over the way that Adrien flopped and flounced, ecstatic over his progress, though as they passed a few patrons outside the bar, the model's face fell as he coughed through the stink of concentrated tobacco.

They moved on quickly, and Luka surreptitiously texted the Gorilla, using the number that the hulking man had given him, asking him to wait for them at the _Liberty_ so that Adrien could be sure to get home safely.

While walking, Adrien's shoulders relaxed, slumped, perfect posture melting away into a supple grace that was so unlike anything that Luka had ever seen from someone who was skirting the happy edge. He ambled along the path, eyes aglow and face awash in the bright Parisian city lights.

Adrien laughed, joking about smell of smoke and his overreaction, looking ashamed again because Luka had walked through it without even noticing. He'd smelled, and done, a lot worse things than cigarettes.

That look on Adrien face was itself far worse than the smell of cigarettes.  
  
“You know _The Platters_?” Luka asked suddenly, nudging Adrien while they waited at a crosswalk.

“Of course.” Adrien shrugged any excess weight off his shoulders, muscles under his dress shirt arching up. “Who doesn't know about classics like that?”

“I figured that their kind of lyrics would be right up your alley.” He had to struggle to keep pace with the model in more ways than one. Rather beefy and lengthy legs, and a happy buzz, would do that. Adrien apparently got jovial after a few drinks. That was nice. Luka just got melancholic. Warm became blazing; cool became frigid. That was often the way with people. Alcohol, like hard times, just amplified what you already were - stripped away some of the pretense. 

“Why? Because I'm a dork? Not quite hip with what the kids are in to?”

“I happen to like dorks, which probably explains why I enjoy hanging out with you”

Luka appreciated the embarrassed blush.

“But what I meant was their songs are ... idealized. They're about simple, clean, and honest love – sometimes honest pain, and you seem like a very romantic kind of guy.”

“[Heavenly shades of night are falling.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UGwa2tw7Vws&ab_channel=ThePlatters)” With a wide sweep of his arm, Adrien gestured to the sky. Sunset had passed them by an hour ago, so the timing was off, but it was a valiant effort at a deflection, covering, Luka thought, a hint of shame.

“There's nothing wrong with being idealistic, Adrien. About wanting to believe the best. It takes... strength to keep believing in that when people disappoint you.”

“What was it about the Platters, anyways?”

“Well, smoke got in your eyes.”

Adrien snorted, wild blond hair flying.

They sang [“Smoke Gets in Your Eyes”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vfBboBz3yoc&ab_channel=ThePlatters) as Adrien walked him back to the _Liberty_ , and they both pretended that they hadn't both been blinded, and they weren't feeling the sting, clenching and squinting against the pain.

> They said, 'Someday you'll find  
> All who love are blind'  
> Oh-oh-oh-oh
> 
> When your heart's on fire  
> You must realize  
> Smoke gets in your eyes

Gentle waves from the Seine, which still stank slightly despite the slightly cool evening that cut some of the unpleasantness, lapped at the sides of the _Liberty_ , rocking it, slow and easy.

> Yet today, my love has flown away  
> I am without my love  
>   
> Now laughing friends deride  
> Tears I cannot hide  
> So I smile and say  
> 'When a lovely flame dies  
> Smoke gets in your eyes.'

They stopped at the dock, and stood, looking out over the water. The Gorilla, arms crossed over his massive chest, stood beside a waiting car.

“Goodnight, Adrien.” Luka nodded at the model, and for a moment, had no idea how to say goodbye. Did you nod, shake, hug, fist-bump?

No. Never a fist-bump.

Adrien gave his shoulder a tight squeeze, and Luka reciprocated warmly.

“Goodnight, Luka.”

And he had one.


End file.
